


Waiting

by iridescentglow



Category: Carnivale
Genre: F/M, Pre-show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-23
Updated: 2005-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 05:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentglow/pseuds/iridescentglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sofie can't sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

Sofie had been waiting so long for Jonesy to happen by that she'd grown tired of waiting. Her posture had crumpled; the straight back with small breasts thrust forward turned to an uneven twist of shoulders as her body reverted to a sullen slump. She looked pale and wan against the colours of the trailer; seated on the steps she took on the appearance of a neglected doll. She was gazing off to the far left, watching her own smoke, the way the thick night swallowed it without warning.

"Up late," Jonesy commented, announcing his presence. He paused a few steps short of her, then finally ambled closer.

Her eyes refocused on him; a strained, fervent kind of pleasure rushing into her cheeks. "Yep," she said with forced casualness. "No way I'm gonna sleep tonight. Too hot"—she squinted—"Too . . . something. I don't know."

"You smokin now?" he said, unable to keep the smile from his voice.

She looked down, as if she'd forgotten about the cigarette burning slowly toward the tips of her fingers. "Maybe," she said defensively.

Using her remaining fingers, she plucked at the flask, raising it to her lips. Jonesy guessed it was some of moonshine that Stumpy that triumphantly produced earlier in the week; probably a notch down from rat piss. Sofie took several tiny sips of it, before gamely gulping a full mouthful. Jonesy reached out and swiped the flask from her grasp. He sniffed and then shook his head.

"If you're gonna start drinking, you might as well piss your money away on somethin better than this," he said. His tongue darted out to catch a spare drop that spilled from the flask's neck. Then he replaced the flask on the step.

Sofie seemed about to say something, but she caught herself, biting her lip instead. He liked her lips the best. Not the static pout of self-conscious women, her lips were always moving, always bitten and licked, finding their way around endless unspoken words.

"You gonna sit down, or just keep cluttering up the place?" she said at last. She shifted slightly, moving the flask so it was nestled between her knees.

He did as he was told, hauling himself awkwardly into a seat next to her. She rested her head on his shoulder, her hands slithering through the crook of his arm and coming to rest where his braces met the waistband of his pants. It always amazed him, her ability to crawl so completely into his personal space at will. (On days she was mad at him, her arms would cross her chest and she'd maintain a harsh two-foot distance.)

She leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth. It was a quick kiss, although she lingered a moment too long, betraying a desire for slow kisses that seemed to last forever. She tasted too sweet, the alcohol thick across her lips. He wanted to lick it all away, his tongue fighting hers.

"What did you do that for?" Jonesy managed a moment later, his tone a mixture of exasperation and wistfulness.

"Why not?" she retorted, with a small explosion of annoyance. She revealed the tiniest slur in her voice, and he wondered if he had underestimated her drunkenness.

She shoved him slightly, and then began to clamber on top of him. He was reminded of a small rodent burrowing into his arms as she climbed astride him. Her knees rested either side of his hips as she rose above him.

"You need to sleep," he said roughly. He couldn't seem to stop his hands from roaming her back, pushing at the light fabric of her shirt.

"It's too hot." She leaned close to his cheek, her voice sinking to a mumble. "Too . . . something."

She began to kiss his face, alternately finding the corner of his mouth, the dip of his cheekbone, or the curve of his jaw. He tasted salty, and she was reminded of tears.

She ceased her trail of kisses suddenly, and pulled away slightly, so she could see his expression.

His hands had found their way into her hair. He smoothed the loose tendrils away from her face, tucking them behind her ears. Her eyelids drooped closed; a corner of her mouth caught between her teeth.

He couldn't resist. He leaned forward, closing the gap between them. He gave her a proper kiss, sliding his tongue inside her mouth. She might have sighed, but he felt only the pull of small teeth tugging at his bottom lip.


End file.
